As Della stared into the mirror, her green eyes piercing back at her, she felt a familiar ache settle in her chest. The truth was, she liked the attention she was getting now. Being called Emily, being treated as someone who was loved, cherished, and adored-it was intoxicating. But deep down, it terrified her. She knew it was all a lie. She knew it would end eventually. And when it did, she would be left with nothing.
*It will end one day, Della. When they realize you're not their real heir.* Her conscience whispered to her, a mocking reminder of the truth she was trying so hard to ignore. The Adleys would find out eventually. Hunter would find out. And when they did, it would be over. She'd be back to being Della, the green-eyed, scared girl nobody wanted.
Della wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the chill creeping up her spine. Hunter was a good man, better than she had expected. He had treated her with respect and kindness. He had looked at her like she was special, like she was the woman he had always dreamed of marrying. And the Adley family-they had welcomed her with open arms, showing her a warmth she had never experienced. Mrs. Adley treated her like a daughter, and Mr. Adley had shown her the kind of fatherly affection she had always craved.
It made the guilt even worse. These were good people-Hunter, the Adleys, and even Emily herself. Emily had been nothing but kind and generous to Della when they first met. She hadn't looked down on her or judged her like so many others had. She had been everything Della had admired-beautiful, gracious, and compassionate. And now, Della was standing in her place, pretending to be the woman everyone loved. She could never forgive herself for that.
"If only I hadn't been too late," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Maybe Emily could still be alive."
It was a thought that haunted her every day. The accident that had claimed Emily's life was one Della couldn't stop replaying in her mind. She had arrived seconds too late. If she had been faster, if she had known what was coming, maybe she could have saved her.
Now, she was living with the consequences, pretending to be someone she could never be. And every time she looked into Hunter's eyes, every time he touched her, she felt deceit. It felt wrong. It felt like betrayal. And yet, a part of her craved his attention. She craved the warmth of his smile, the way his touch made her heart race. The way he had kissed her at the church-soft, lingering, and full of promise-had been her first passionate kiss, and it had felt like a dream.
But as good as it felt, Della knew it was dangerous. If Hunter ever found out who she really was-if he discovered that she was nothing but an imposter wearing his fiancée's face-everything would crumble. The Adleys would turn their backs on her, and Hunter would despise her. She would lose everything, and she would have no one to blame but herself.
Tears pricked at her eyes, and she wiped them away angrily. She didn't deserve to cry. She didn't deserve any of this. She had taken Emily's place, and she had to live with the consequences. Even if it meant pretending, even if it meant carrying this secret for as long as she could. She had to make it work-for Diego, for herself, and for the chance to be someone who mattered.
Taking a deep breath, she turned away from the mirror. She could still feel the ghost of Hunter's touch, the way his fingers had brushed against her arm and sent a shiver down her spine. She had to remind herself that it was all part of the plan. She had to play the role perfectly, no matter how much her heart betrayed her.
Because, in the end, Della was nothing but a stand-in. And no matter how much she wished things could be different, she knew that truth would always haunt her.
Della leaned back against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, the water from the tub cooling on her skin. She closed her eyes, letting her thoughts drift to the memory that had haunted her for months-the night she found Emily, the night everything changed.
It had started innocently enough. She had gone to Diego's apartment to bring him food, something she did occasionally when he claimed he was too busy to eat. It was her small way of trying to take care of him, to show him that despite everything, he still had someone who cared. She hadn't expected to walk into the chaos that awaited her.
The moment she opened the door, she knew something was wrong. The air was thick with tension, and she could hear voices-angry, urgent. Diego's voice echoed through the apartment, laced with a fury she hadn't heard before. Glass shattered, and Della flinched, her hand gripping the bag of food as she hesitated by the door.
Then she heard a scream, followed by the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. Her heart pounded as she moved further inside, her body trembling as she tiptoed towards the source of the noise. She peered around the corner, and there, in the dim light of the living room, she saw Emily. Her clothes were torn, her face streaked with tears. Diego loomed over her, his eyes dark, his face twisted in a rage she barely recognized.
Della's breath caught in her throat as she watched. She felt frozen, unable to move, as Diego shouted at Emily, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He knocked a vase off the table, and it shattered against the wall, the shards scattering across the floor like tiny daggers.
"Diego, please!" Emily's voice was desperate, her hands reaching out as if to placate him, but he only shoved her away, his eyes cold and unfeeling.